


Unintelligent Move

by skybound2



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-30
Updated: 2009-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybound2/pseuds/skybound2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An injured (and forgetful) Tabris is in need of help getting back to camp. Enter Sten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unintelligent Move

"Ow, ow, ow! Stupid, stupid, _idiot_!" She knows that it's an undignified response for a Grey Warden, but really, she was quite possibly the most idiotic Warden to ever grace Thedas, but by Andraste that _hurt_! What the hell had she been thinking?

"An excellent question, Kadan."

Had she asked that question out loud? Must have been the absolutely blinding pain that she was feeling at the moment; has a tendency to loosen the tongue a fair bit. She bit out a curse through gritted teeth, leveling herself into a slightly less uncomfortable position, which really, just amounted to not laying directly on her broken leg. Speaking of which… "OW!"

The heavy sigh of the qunari skated over her face then, alerting Kallian to the fact that his large, lumbering form was leaning over her smaller frame in order to assess her injuries; which was just as well, because at the moment, she didn't think she could peel her eyelids open for all the cheese in Orlais.

A subtle prodding of the aforementioned leg brought a sharp hiss, and another swell of pain. Sten's voice was as even as ever: "You are lucky."

At this, she _did _manage to peel open an eyelid; but, just barely, and not very happily at that. One slightly bloodshot eye stared at her companion. "I think we may have very different definitions of 'luck' at the moment, my friend."

"It's a clean break. You've had worse." Reluctantly, she agreed.

Distantly, she registered the arrival of the two rogues that made up the remainder of today's excursion group; both still panting slightly from the exertion of the recently won battle. She leaned back on her arms, trying to keep some of her weight from her lower body, "Health poultice?"

There was some mumbling between her companions, and some pack shuffling following her request. At the end of which, it was Zevran who answered, "Unfortunately, we appear to be out at the moment."

Oh, hell, no. If the pain didn't kill her, the incompetency of her companions just might. Why the hell hadn't she thought to bring Wynne with them today? Oh, that's right! Routine scavenge and pilfer mission. Warriors and rogues only, mages need not apply. Shit. "Out? Out! How could we possibly be out! What idiot left the camp without all of their assigned equipment stowed? " She waited for a response, and when none was forthcoming, she forced her gaze open; finding Sten still leaning close, and both Leliana and Zevran flanking her sides.

"The idiot in question would be you, Kadan." And damn it all, if Sten of the Beresaad wasn't fighting back a smile. She gave it some thought, and realized that she hadn't thought to check her pack's supply before leaving camp. Stupid, annoying, accurate qunari.

"Shit."

"I'm not certain what feces has to do with anything." His severe gaze was as steady as ever, while Leliana tried (somewhat successfully) to stifle a giggle. Kallian shot her a death glare; or, as fair a facsimile of one as she could manage, given the pain (which really wasn't even close – she rather looked like she'd eaten bad eggs).

"Of course you aren't." With a heavy sigh, she ran through the options in her mind, before settling on the only viable on. "Nothing to be done for then, you're going to have to set it for me. There's no chance of my limping back to the camp," _tail between my legs_ "otherwise."

Sten's nod was brief, "Agreed."

"Zev, dagger, please."

The other elf eyed her for a moment, before reaching behind him and unsheathing one of his blades, presenting it to her by the hilt, "As you wish, my lady." The smile she gave him at that was little more then a grimace, before she placed the hilt of the dagger in her mouth, and bit down.

She tuned everyone out then, concentrating on taking strong, steady breaths while Zevran went off to gather splinting materials. Leliana settled behind her, lowering Kallian down into a relaxed position, head resting in her lap; the bard's gentle fingers brushing the hair and sweat out of her eyes. She shivered as a gust of wind blew past them, dimly aware of Sten sitting on his haunches by her feet. She felt one oversized hand settle beneath her upper leg, the rough skin of his palm a direct counterpoint to her own; the other hovered just above the point of the break.

"This will hurt." No sooner had the words passed his lips then she felt an absolutely shocking pain tear through her entire being; a bright flash of white flaring in her eyes. Then she felt nothing more.

~~~~\/~~~~

It was with a great sense of contentment that she awoke. By the rhythmic thumps she could feel vibrating through her, she could tell that she was moving, but the jostling was subtle, intended to not disturb her or her injured leg. The pain had ebbed, but not left completely, and she sucked in a quiet breath as she regained consciousness. The smell of cedarwood, and silverite assailed her senses. She noted that she was swathed in something soft, comforting, but beneath that she could feel the hard planes of heavy armor.

"You are awake. Good."

She blinked up, blearily, her voice hoarse as she addressed the man whose arms she seemed to be nestled in, "Sten?"

"Yes?"

"Are you…are you, _carrying_ me?"

"You lost consciousness. It is late, and we need to return to camp. Carrying you seemed…prudent."

"Oh. Where did the blanket come from?"

"Zevran."

"Oh," because really, the fact that Zevran had a spare blanket in his pack, but not more health poultices, was really not that surprising.

She settled back then, not precisely snuggling, as that was not really possible, what with the armor and all, but allowing her heavy limbs to relax. In an effort to focus on something other then the pain still circulating around her injuries (of which she had quite a few beyond just her leg – her whole body felt like an ogre's punching bag; which, to be fair, it kind of _was_) she instead focused on matching her breaths to the long, even ones of the qunari. The activity had a meditative quality to it, and before long it seemed they had reached the edge of camp, the pain successfully blocked out.

The barking of her Mabari alerted the occupants of the camp to their arrival. Moments later, shouts rang out, successfully rousing her from her near-slumber. She recognized Alistair's panicked voice amongst them, but was frankly too exhausted to respond. A growl issued forth from Sten as Alistair tried to remove her from his grasp, instead moving to settle her on her bedroll, before he stepped away. The loss of his proximity bothered her, but she made no move to reclaim it.

Wynne's sensible voice broke through the fog, "What happened?" Kallian felt the warmth of one of Wynne's healing spells enveloping her body, and sighed in contentment, burrowing a little into the blanket.

"Our fearless leader attempted to take on a full-sized Ogre. Single handedly; while the rest of us were moving in the opposite direction." The amusement peppering Zevran's voice was obvious.

Her own voice was small, tired, but she managed to settle her gaze on the assassin, "What do you mean 'attempted?' I won."

"That you did. Rather spectacularly at that. That does not change the fact that it flung you like a ragdoll across the clearing. Perhaps next time you should rethink your strategy. Running headlong into single combat with a creature ten times your size might not always be the best course of action."

She bit her lip at that, well aware of Alistair's disapproving and worried gaze from where he was seated now beside her, "It seemed like a sensible plan at the time." She felt the former Templar's hand wrap around the fingers of her own, giving it a light squeeze.

"It was an unintelligent move. One unworthy of a warrior." She raised her eyes to Sten, who had settled on a log not far from where she lay, and noted with some shame the admonishment (and worry?) in his own gaze; and grumbled her agreement.

By the fire, Leliana was recounting in perfect prose the tale of the Ogre to a partially captivated audience (because really, Morrigan and Shale couldn't be bothered, now that they knew that Kallian was fine). By her feet, her Mabari had settled, warm and soft and loving, and she sighed happily. After all she was safe, her body was mending, and she was surrounded by friends. She couldn't ask for more.

And besides, she really had kicked that Ogre's ass.

~ End


End file.
